


to be a martyr was enjolras' fate.

by dixonbelcourts



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: M/M, NB Grantaire, This is great!!, Trans Enjolras, Trans Gavroche, Trans Male Character, cw for transphobia from enjolras' father, grantaire is so...gay. god, its briefly mentioned in a few parts but u feel me, non binary grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:48:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixonbelcourts/pseuds/dixonbelcourts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He believes, he decides. He believes in the revolution and in his comrades and in himself, for once. He believes in Enjolras and all he stands for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to be a martyr was enjolras' fate.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cailantheirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cailantheirin/gifts).



> cw for transphobia from Enjolras' father!! briefly mentioned but p. severe so just in case. no slurs or anything, just mentions of his own experiences
> 
> also, this has Grantaire and Enjolras binding with bandages. Don't do that. I don't know what safe binding is in this time period

Enjolras never says it, but Grantaire knows.

Oh, he knows how Enjolras was born - to the rich, wrapped in pink, surrounded by the soft cooing of his mother, so grateful for a daughter. He’s never made any attempt to hide that from the rest of them, even if it was a different story publically. Enjolras stopped being ashamed of that part of him long ago, even if it’s only known within the small walls of their group. Grantaire has never hated him for it. Most of the time he doesn’t feel one with himself, in the way Enjolras described after Marius’ probing questions. Not a girl, no - but not a man.

But Grantaire knows how the happy parents reacted even if Enjolras refuses to speak of it. It’s how he flinches when touched, how he derails the conversation at any mention of family if he doesn’t completely fade out of it. Grantaire has heard the nightmares, too.

 

_Father, Father no, Father I swear I -_

Enjolras always tenses and wakes after that, and he doesn’t go back to sleep. They all notice. They don’t ask, don’t pry. Grantaire doesn’t check to see if he’s okay, regardless of how much he wishes to. He knows Enjolras would just push him away. It’s worrying nonetheless.

//

The barricade is an amazing fantasy made by an amazing dreamer of a man. Grantaire listens as he goes on about it, waving off Combeferre’s sarcasm with a shake of the head and another direction. It’s almost mystical. The revolution is important to Enjolras for reasons beyond taking down the King, Grantaire knows. It’s that much the other man has admitted. That late night sitting against the windows with the chill of the night through the window, Enjolras all sober and Grantaire with bottles in his system but a built up immunity. Amazing, how Enjolras speaks. Like poetry that wasn’t quite good enough to publish. In all the splendour of a magician Enjolras told him of a world without the King, where the streets are safe.

“Gavroche will grow up fearless.” he says. “He won’t grow up ashamed.” 

He swallows and crosses his legs, and Grantaire knows what he means.

Enjolras would die for the cause. None of them have ever doubted that but Marius, who while convinced, still seems shocked by the man’s passion. To be a martyr is Enjolras’ fate. Recklessness, chivalry, optimism, and a genuine hope for a better world. All things Grantaire admired about him. All things he aspired to be.

Enjolras sees all of that in him, anyway.

//

“How do you know how to do this?” 

Eponine asks with genuine curiosity, turning her head as far as she can to look at Enjolras behind her. Enjolras holds a pin in his mouth as he wraps bandages around Eponine’s chest as carefully as he can. His hands still for a moment. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability to catch him in, and Grantaire savors it. Treasures turned into split seconds when Enjolras is more than their leader. When he breaks.

Grantaire is always looking for that moment.

So he sees Enjolras pause and resists the urge to step in. Hard to remember that he doesn’t need anyone to save him.

“My sister used to do the same to hide with the other boys in town.” Enjolras answers, tone calm once more.

The answer is taken, no words said. 

Enjolras catches Grantaire’s eye when he shifts at his spot in the doorway, and there’s a second where Grantaire hitches. Damn him. It wasn’t uncommon, yet he’s never gotten used to it. Almost upsetting. So ironic, though, that Enjolras should think himself so lesser when he’s done so much to the other man. Grantaire wonders what that makes him in Enjolras’ eyes. 

Eponine follows the man’s order to pull up her hair and believes the tale. Grantaire wonders if he should.

He’ll have to ask him for bandaging tips later on.

//

Grantaire never believed in much of anything. He wasn’t the person to. He wasn’t raised rich enough to have opinions, much less voice them. Enjolras is different. Bold, star-studded, unashamed. It was admirable to him. Grantaire looks up at Enjolras as he shouts towards the crowd besides Marius, Coufreyac and Combeferre at the bottom of the stand rallying up the people. 

As time goes on, he finds himself wanting to impress Enjolras. He doesn’t stop drinking, or put the extra work into his listening to his lectures - but there’s a hope, swelling deep in his chest. That maybe he could be good enough. Maybe the barricade will be unbreakable and the King will fall and they’ll rejoice in song and he’ll fall into Enjolras’ arms. They’ll all be safe.

When Enjolras’ father shows up to the rally, he pauses mid-shout. All color drained from his face. When Grantaire said he treasured Enjolras’ vulnerable moments, he didn’t mean this. He reaches up to the stand and wraps his fingers around Enjolras’ hand - what he can reach - and Enjolras looks down at him. His leader looks at him with blue eyes and Grantaire can see the fear of god in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. His father looks up at the stand and Marius shouting. He continues walking with an irritated look.

“He didn’t recognize his own son.” Grantaire says later, in the warm safety in the pub. 

He reaches out and touches Enjolras’ hand again, merely wrapping a finger around his. Enjolras doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in his own thought.

“Last time he saw me, I wasn’t his son.” Enjolras admits.

Grantaire is cautious at the rallies after that.

//

Warm summer nights were never good for Enjolras. He has trouble doing much of anything in the heat. There’s laughter around the corner, high-pitched and happy. He turns the bend and leans against a wooden pole to see Grantaire spinning Gavroche bridal style in his arms, grinning as the child cheers. Gavroche has always been a smaller brother to them, not just to Eponine, that much they’ve all accepted. The sight makes something swell in Enjolras’ chest - it’s nice to see Gavroche smile.

“Faster!”

The child’s yell is blurred in Enjolras’ ears, and Grantaire can hardly hear in his dizziness. Grantaire sets the child onto the ground softly, and falls the last few inches to the ground afterward. He can almost see swirls in front of his eyes. Grantaire’s hands go to his chest to unbutton the sleeves to his shirt and shrug it off, the sun and the spinning overwhelming him. Enjolras watches deft fingers pull at buttons, hitching in his rush. He’s brought back when Gavroche speaks, pointing at the bandages around Grantaire’s chest. 

“Can you show me how to do that?”

Gavroche asks, reaching out to touch. Enjolras looks at the bandages. Tied well, just how he’d taught him. It’s...odd, seeing another person wrapped other than Eponine. Eponine wasn’t like they were, not as far as he knew. 

“No! No, of course not. You’ve no need for that yet.” 

Grantaire’s reply almost makes Enjolras smile. Before Gavroche says anything, Grantaire reaches out and grabs him, wrapping his arm around him and tickling. Gavroche breaks out into another fit of laughter before wrestling away and throwing dirt in the other’s direction. It’s Enjolras’ chuckle that makes Gavroche see him, and a grin spreads across his face.

“He can show me how to be more like a boy!” he yells, running to Enjolras.

The boy is tall for his age, up to both he and Grantaire’s waist. Enjolras squats down to the ground anyway to look him in the eye. He takes Gavroche’s hands in his. Grantaire pulls his shirt back over his shoulders but leaves it unbuttoned, crawling over to their side. It’s a pleasure to Enjolras, seeing Gavroche. It gives him more hope for the cause.

“You are, Gavroche. It won’t change that.” 

Enjolras says it softly, and he knows Gavroche is listening. He genuinely wants to help Gavroche, tell him everything he would’ve liked to be told. Not that he doesn’t trust Eponine to treat him well - just the Thernadiers.

“Can you show me how to make my voice deep?”

The boy’s tone is softened where it’d been so excited a moment ago. Enjolras smiles, looking down at the ground for a moment before nodding.

So Grantaire sits and watches. He watches Enjolras sing _Fo Sa La Ti Do’s_ with a deepening voice as he goes on, watches him go _Yes, yes like that_ when Gavroche returns it. If he could bottle a moment, he could. This isn’t the Enjolras he knows, not the great leader. He likes it.

// 

_He’s wonderful._

Grantaire determines this to himself as the night shines down, Enjolras’ mouth hot against his neck and hand gripping his thigh. He’s amazing, wonderful, eccentric, inspiring - all random words that ramble through his head as Enjolras treats him. His eyelids flutter shut and he savors the feeling. With the barricade in but a few days, he wants to know in case it doesn’t happen again. 

He believes, he decides. He believes in the revolution and in his comrades and in himself, for once. He believes in Enjolras and all he stands for. Enjolras mutters something against his neck that he doesn’t hear and it makes Grantaire want to scream because he wants to know and he wants to remember. If there’s anything he wants to think of when getting a bullet in the side, he thinks, it’d be right now. 

When they lay down, Grantaire’s hands hesitate over Enjolras’ bandages. He presses kisses up the other’s side, holds his hands above his head - but pauses there. He looks up at Enjolras cautiously, and smiles against his skin when he nods. 

_//_

Grantaire gets a tier better than dying with the thought of Enjolras. He dies with him. 


End file.
